us a

The hounds of the Aglionby Hunt Club howled it that fall: away, away, away.

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part VIII)

Part VIII – “Please teach me gently how to breathe”

You can find every previous part here.

Twenty-eight

“Open yer mouth.” I ordered with what I thought might be a commanding voice, holding a spoon in front of her stubbornly closed lips. “This jelly actually looks delicious. Ye need yer strength.”

“Yuck.” Claire showed me her tongue in distaste. “Why don’t you eat it, then? I’ve been eating that yellow blob for the last three weeks!”

“Sometimes it’s red.” I pointed patiently. “I ken ye’re tired of being here, mo nighean donn – I have spent enough time in hospitals to last me a lifetime, I assure ye – but ye’re scrawny as a bird fallen from its nest. They won’t let ye leave unless ye put on some weight.”

“Fine.” She replied in a mordant tone, clutching the spoon away from me. “But I can feed myself – I’ve been shot, not taken back in time to when I was two years old.”

“Then stop acting like a wicked bairn.” I offered her a playful nose scrunch. “How is yer pain?”

“About as good as it was two minutes ago, the last time you asked.” Claire swallowed a spoonful of the hospital’s dessert, grimacing. “Are you sure you haven’t been a nurse in a past life? You seem to like prodding and ordering way too much.”

“I’m sure whatever I was, ye were always the one in charge, lass.” I kissed her forehead – marvelling with the freshness of her skin, after so many days of burning fever. On top of her surgery, from which she was slowly recovering, Claire had developed an infection of her suture – which finally had started to heal properly, after days of intravenous antibiotics. Her usually calm and centred temper had suffered with prolonged seclusion and constant fear of a relapse – and undoubtedly she found my constant attentions profoundly tiresome, if amusing and heartening.

“How is my favourite patient?” Denzel asked, entering the room and greeting us with a warm smile. He looked tired, wearing his crumpled scrubs, his surgical cap slightly hanging from a pocket. “I hear half of the nurses in the department are handing in their notices, unless I discharge you.”

“Hardly.” Claire smiled, neatly folding a corner of her sheet after pushing away the lunch tray. She still looked quite pale, with deep dark smudges under her eyes, but her orbs had regained their usual sharpness and liveliness. “But I’ll let you get away with it if you let me leave this damned place.”

“I’ll have to check your dressings.” Denny squeezed my shoulder in a companion manner, before stepping in to expose her abdomen, still covered with fluffy white bandages. “Your labs are back though – your infection parameters are finally down, so you might be in for some good news.”

After some clicking of his tongue – and a heated debate between the two doctors, from which I only understood about half the strange words – it was settled that Claire was allowed to leave the next day, as long as she accepted to come in every two days to check and redress the wound.

“And you have to build up some body again.” Denzel alerted, ignoring her disarming glances with a professional face. “The infection took almost all of your muscle. You need to eat a bit more if you want to heal nicely.”

“Fine!” She conceded, mocking exasperation. “Get me a cheeseburger, then!”

“Take care, Claire.” Denny winked and brushed her hair with a kind hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning before you leave.”

“Will ye go home, do ye think?” I asked slowly, as she adjusted her pillow to settle in for the afternoon, after Denzel’s departure.

“Where else would I go?” Claire gave me a questioning look, softly squeezing my hand.

“Well,” I started, caressing her knuckles with my thumb. “I was thinking ye could come to my place – just while ye heal.” I added hurriedly, trying not to sound desperate and possessive. “My mind wouldna be at ease if ye were alone in her house, almost empty as it is, with no one to look after ye.”

“If you’re sure.” She raised a brow and smiled. “I can be quite the handful.”

“I am.” I breathed out, trying to control the emotions that seemed to ran so close to the surface, exposed and rampant, after her injury. “Bad things seem to happen when we’re apart. I want ye close to me – I want to care for ye, mo ghraidh.”

“It’s settled, then.” Claire grabbed by hand and pulled me in for a rewarding kiss. “You’ll be my private nurse.”

****

She had protested, assuring me she was quite capable of climbing up the stairs to my apartment – but I saw the effort everything required of her, even standing or laughing too hard – and carried her in my arms, only letting go when I laid her down on my bed.

After helping her change into some comfortable pyjamas, I contentedly sat by the bedroom window, grading some tests from my students, while she took a nap. Once in a while I stopped, my eyes drifting to her, reassuring myself she dreamt within my reach.

I cooked us a simple dinner – roasted chicken with basil and tomatoes, aromatic and homely – and helped her to lay down again, determined to find a place in the sofa or on the floor, where I could sleep close to her without disturbing her.

“Will you sleep next to me?” She asked softly, her brown curls and hawk eyes almost the only visible thing inside the cocoon of quilts I had made around her. “I’d sleep better with you beside me.”

“Aye.” I replied in a husky voice, easing myself under the covers next to her with gentleness, trying not to disturb her with my movements – the idea of causing her any pain made my stomach churn.

I placed an arm around her, reassuring her of my presence – mindful not to put too much pressure over her or to touch her scar. For a time we laid silent, aware of each other’s presence, discovering the intimacy of a bed shared in darkness.

We had been so once before – but at that time she had been devastated, wrecked like a ship after an unforgiving storm, and I had offered her security, a presence of someone who loved her without any demands. I remembered how I had stayed awake, memorizing her until I could recreate her in my heart - believing I’d never see her again, much less hold her in my arms. I wondered if she too recalled that night, when I had offered her the knowledge of my feelings, in the hope that she could use them to heal – and she had.  

I knew she wasn’t sleeping – I’d spent every day and night for the last weeks watching her sleep, until I knew the cadence of her breathing, the comes and goings of her dreams, like a second nature of my own.

She trashed about a little, fidgeting with bedclothes and adjusting her body on the mattress – always laying on her left side, wishing to avoid the tenderness of her upper right quadrant – slowly searching for the contact of my body behind hers, sheltering her like a cloak, two halves finally falling into place.

I waited for her to speak, painfully aware of the desires of my body, feeling her soft arse wedged between my thighs – yet completely restrained by the will of the woman who ruled me.  

A hand came up in the darkness and she placed it gently on my hip.

“I want you.” Claire whispered, almost sobbing. “I need you, Jamie.”

“Are ye sure?” I asked in a husky voice, my fingertips brushing her face, tracing her lips to find truth in her words in the absence of sight. “I dinna want to hurt ye. I’d die if I hurt ye, mo nighean donn.”

“You could never hurt me.” She replied softly, caressing the length of my thigh. “I can’t breathe while we’re apart. I must have you – please, Jamie.”

I didn’t try to dissuade her again, even afraid as I was that it was too soon, too hazardous. I knew all too well the hunger that moved her towards me, starved for life when death had come so close, when it seemed that each moment could be the last. We had lost and found each other in the past, time and again – it seemed that while we were one flesh, one body, parting us would be impossible. While we were in each other, life – and death – was an afterthought, a remote threat, to which we were immune while moving as one.

I moved impossibly slowly, wishing to give her enough space to retrocede at any time, baring us of as many clothes as possible. I kissed the back of her neck, delighted in the small shivers of her skin next to mine, the testament of her arousal in her hardened nipples. I caressed her body with a worshiping hand, taking time at each new discovery that made her moan and hiss in pleasure.

When I thought her ready – desperately pressing herself against me while clawing at my hair – I held her thigh with a light hand and raised her, slightly folding my legs, so I could enter her. I rocked calmly with her body nestled against mine, letting her command the pace while I carried all the weight of her movements.

“I love you”. She whispered – moaned - tilting her head to kiss my lips. “Jamie.” I felt the moistness of her cheeks mixed with mine, tears of a joy long forsaken, exploding between us with enough force to leave us gasping, deeply moved.

It didn’t take long – I knew she was still weak, stubborn and lustful as she might have been. When I felt her tire in my arms, my hand came around her hips to delicately touch her in time with our movements, smiling as she cried out my name.

Afterwards, I held her against me, my hand brushing the dressing on her belly to make sure everything was in place – feeling the comforting thump of our hearts beating together, close enough to be inside the same chest.

“I was right.” She murmured on the verge of sleep, surrendering to my keeping once more. “Nothing hurts when you love me.”

The end

…for now - End of Section 1

“Okay, we’re all upset because we lost Allura”

“No, Shiro lost Allura”

I know people have talked about Coran’s line pinning the blame on Shiro and how that must’ve really cut deep, but I’d just like to draw attention to Pidge’s comment right before. Pidge says “we” lost Allura. She automatically pins the blame on all of them, herself included, even though she didn’t even know Allura was missing until Shiro showed up alone. Honestly Coran has a point. Shiro was the one with Allura; Pidge and Hunk and Keith and Lance had their own stuff to worry about and didn’t really have anything to do with Allura’s capture directly. But she still says “we.”  It shows how far she’s come in how she thinks of the team, thinking of them as one unit where something that happens with one of them is everyone’s responsibility. 

anonymous asked:

All of the sunshine children (and their guardians and the other "adults") get some kind of a happy ending or are on their way to a positive conclusion (I hope; eyeing you very intensely). But what about Gorilla Bodyguard? Doesn't he also deserve some happiness? #HappyGorilla

The Gorilla has been quietly observing Adrien since Mamagreste passed away.

He was there when Adrien broke down on the way home from the funeral.

He was there to get drunk and destructive Adrien out of the messes he made, and for years he silently bore witness to the anger, the sorrow, the numbness in Adrien’s eyes through the rear view mirror.

He was there to drive Adrien to and from Chloe’s doctor’s appointments.

Then one day, he noticed Adrien paying more attention to his phone than usual.

He heard his stifled laughter and saw the excitement in him whenever his phone chimed.

He sees the way Adrien’s eyes light up when Marinette is around.

And he smiles and thinks to himself:

“Thank goodness.”

klaineequalslove  asked:

Any chance you could update the weed/recreational weed tag? I'm on mobile so sorry if it's been asked recently

here you go!

Old Houses by words_reign_here (20/20 | 6,893 | NC17)

Written from a prompt I found on tumblr you can find here.

Basically, a 21 Jump Street meets Teen Wolf meets shadowy government agency.

Even a lie is a psychic fact by Marishna (1/1 | 1,632 | PG13)

It was nearly the end of his second year living with a psychic who liked to dabble in some witchcraft and a werewolf from a southern Californian werewolf who was baked more often than not.

And Derek, who’d become somewhat of an unofficial fourth roommate.

Sevens and Eights by calrissian18 (1/1 | 10,092 | PG13)

Stiles has a bandage slung under his chin like a disembodied helmet strap when Derek first meets him. It’s complemented by a chipped front tooth and a scrape of road rash across his cheek.

Blowback by Squilkey (1/1 | 1,176 | PG13)

Stiles and Derek sit in the Jeep, waiting for Scott to return. Derek has a baggie.

you know me, i had plans (but they just disappeared) by wolfiery (asswords) (1/1 | 8,257 | R)

“Stiles,” Erica chimes brightly, with a sharp edge to her red-painted grin that makes him feel a prickle of concern. This was a catwoman here, he could tell. “We’ve been telling Derek that he can’t expect to go through his whole life wearing a cap and a basic t-shirt like a classic pro-sport cliché. What do you think?”

Instead of answering right away, he turns to Derek on his right and tries to quickly look him over, but then he sees the way Derek’s tan forearms have veins and the baby blue shirt stands out against his skin. The cap is showing his big ears and highlights his dark eyelashes under the hood and so to him, he’s pretty sure the guy is too fucking beautiful. He swallows quickly and looks back to both of them, quickly answering, “He looks fine.”

Never Leave the Good Shit Behind by Virago77 (PriPri) (1/1 | 3,332 | NC17)

“…I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen in love with you over the past year and I was devastated when you left with Cora, because I didn’t think you were ever going to come back—I mean why should you?! But you came for me when I needed someone so badly, and you were so nice to me, and I didn’t plan to kiss you and I panicked, and… And then I realized way, way later, that you kissed me back—why did you do that?”
“When I said I had people here that I wanted more than my sister, I was talking about you…“

Between Men and Lions by standinginanicedress (9/9 | 102,164 | NC17)

“I thought we could be friends,” Derek offers, to which Stiles gets an odd smile on his face.

“Friends,” he repeats, an odd inflection.

“Yes, friends.”

Stiles laughs, just barely. It’s more of an exhalation of breath than it is genuine mirth or anything else, and then he smiles. “I’m pretty good at friends,” he says with a tilt to his head, and Derek clears his throat and has to look away.

anonymous asked:

omg wait, is that still that Roberto just tweeted a NEW Bughead kiss? And we're already expecting the hand-hold kiss at the baby shower, right? They are totally spoiling us! The other ships have had like one kiss each, and Bughead are doing a hundred cute things in the canon and deleted scenes. I love this show and these people.

It IS! He’s our King of Bugheads, and this show outta be called “Betty and Jughead solving crimes and falling in love” in my honest opinion!